


Grounding

by TheWritingDork



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Basically there's some extra stuff at the beginning then the canon then my own ending, Bisexual Jeremy Heere, Bisexual Rich Goranski, Canon Compliant, Childhood Memories, Gay Michael Mell, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Panic Attacks, Suicidal Thoughts, for the most part until the end and then its
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-27 01:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15674946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWritingDork/pseuds/TheWritingDork
Summary: Michael always had issues with his anxiety, and he was sure that it wouldn't ever be an issue once he met his best friend, Jeremy. After all, he got him his hoodie, which helped ground him no matter what.Would it still ground him, even when Jeremy suddenly ditched him to finally be popular?(The entirety of BMC from Michael's perspective with my own added idea of Michael's hoodie acting like a weighted blanket that helps ground him and calm his anxiety.)





	Grounding

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic in years, and my first for the Be More Chill fandom! I've read so many fics, and I hope this serves as a nice 'thank you' to all of those amazing writers who took time and dedication to write their fanfictions that have given me joy, anguish, and just a great time.
> 
> I'm projecting my own issues of when I used to have my own jackets as a grounding tool (with some exceptions) as well as inspiration for how my anxiety and panic attacks may play out. Be careful during the entirety of the 'Michael in the Bathroom' scene if you're sensitive to that stuff!
> 
> Let me know if there are any other things I should put here (warnings, etc.). I hope you all enjoy!

Ever since Michael was young, he always had a gnawing feeling in the back of his mind. Most kids would be able to brush aside such a thing if it ever arose, but he wasn’t so lucky. He always thought every other kid had this feeling that resided inside of them, chipping away at them throughout the day about how they weren’t doing this right or said that wrong. Some days he was able to brush past them, focusing instead on what he was doing with his moms or on a handheld game he was elated about. Unfortunately, not every day held distractions from the voices in the back of his little mind.

His moms told him that it was anxiety when he had to be picked up after having an attack in the preschool when kids pushed him too far about how his interests were weird and stupid.

Going to see a therapist was really weird, especially since he heard about how only people with bad issues went. He was only four though, and although it had been a long life so far, there was no way he could be _bad_. His mama reassured him before going that it was just to help and that there wasn’t anything wrong with getting help, but he hadn’t ever heard about her or his mom going. _They_ didn’t have anything wrong, but _he_ did. Was he already a big dummy and stupid when he hadn’t even gone to kindergarten?

His mind was reeling with these thoughts as he walked into the office of the child therapist with his mama, holding tightly onto her hand. The room seemed harmless enough, similar even to his preschool classroom. There were toys next to a large playmat, beanbags set up while there were chairs running along the opposite side of the room. At the moment, there weren’t many people there. Of course not, there weren’t a lot of weird kids like him.

There was one boy sitting on the mat, however, currently playing with one of the toys while two adults sat on the opposite side of the room, an uncomfortable feeling radiating from them. Michael was glad when his mama told him to try to talk to the other boy, ushering him over before going to check the two in with the nice lady at the counter.

When he got closer, the small boy turned over to face Michael. He had spots (freckles, his mama later corrected) across his cheeks, reminding the boy of the stars he loved looking at with his moms, and eyes that were blue like the sky and he swore he could get lost in how pretty they were. Oh, and he had on a Pac-Man shirt! He hadn’t ever seen someone wear such a cool shirt before! How could someone who liked something cool be _here_?

“Hi!” Michael said, a wide smile on his face as he plopped down next to the other boy. The boy seemed surprised at first, not expecting such enthusiasm. “I like your shirt! Pac-Man is a cool game and my moms let me play it sometimes.”

“Oh, thank you. I l-like your shirt,” the boy said, pointing to his shirt that had Link from the Legend of Zelda on it as a shy smile formed. “Link is really… really cool.”

“Yeah, he is!” He stuck out his hand to this awesome kid, smiling even wider. “I’m Michael!”

“I-I’m Jeremy,” Jeremy said, taking Michael’s hand and shaking it gently. “It’s nice to meet you.”

 

He found out that there were many reasons to visit someone for help, and that it wasn’t such a weird thing. Some people went because their brain wasn’t always at one-hundred percent, like himself. Sometimes things didn’t always work, and that was OK because people can learn to deal with it, like how you stitch up a blanket when it’s torn—it may not be the same, but it’s as best as it can be and that’s OK. Other people came because things don’t work well together and it can affect others, like when you have an allergy to peanuts and the person with the allergy has to work on it and those around you have to do the same. Jeremy was like that, dealing with parents that just weren’t happy together anymore.

They ended up being in the same kindergarten class, and they were able to work together when they had bad days. The two became the best of friends with their shared interests and own problems they learned they had like difficulty socializing with other peers. That didn’t matter, however, because they had each other!

Throughout their childhood, Jeremy eventually didn’t need to go to therapy anymore. Michael realized he had more things he needed help with. He moved from the familiarity of his child therapist to a normal therapist once he became a teenager, and he realized how much he despised change and relaying new things to someone else. This person hadn’t been through him with everything, through learning about his depression that coupled with his anxiety and his fidgeting issues. He managed to convince his moms that it wasn’t helping once he learned all he could to help cope and got out. He felt shitty about being there for so long, that he had so many problems compared to everyone else _apparently_.

Thankfully, he still had Jeremy, his best friend, his Player Two, who had been through him with it all and helped him. He had been with him through his ups and downs, helping him with coping with an attack before it happened. He was there for him when he needed to vent or just word vomit to get rid of the knots in his stomach or the buzzing in the back of his head, telling him how he wasn’t good enough or how badly he was messing everything up.

Of course, Michael was there for Jeremy when he felt like it was his fault that his mom didn’t love his dad anymore, to be a shoulder to cry on or to be his protector against the assholes at school. They were there for one another, and nothing would ever change their friendship.

Sometimes, medicine didn’t help Michael’s mind to quell, even if it did the job about ninety-five percent of the time. It got worse as they were close to entering high school, and Jeremy noticed this. How could he not notice when something was wrong with his Player One? He could see how his fidgeting got worse in class, and Michael vented to him one night during one Friday night sleepover how he felt vulnerable when walking around, even if he had his music to listen to that helped to drown out the noise from time to time when things got to be too much.

“I just wish that I could lug around my quilt around school to help be feel secure and safe. Of course, I’d just get made fun of, and people would ruin it, but I still wish I could have that warmth and security, y’know?”

It took a while for Jeremy to find it, but he knew that it was perfect for his best friend. It felt perfect, looked amazing, and he knew it would fit perfectly too. He couldn’t help but bounce on the balls of his feet as he got ready for school that Friday morning. When Michael came over for their weekly sleepover, he’d surprise him with it! Yup, he was sure his best friend would adore it and it would help him not feel so anxious in class.

He had trouble hiding his excitement, however, and Michael pestered him about it at lunch. He continually poked at his cheek, trying to get him to spill the beans. “Nu-uh, you’ll just have to find out later. Don’t worry, it-it’s all good. I just hope you’ll be as excited about it when you s-see it.”

“If it’s something involved with you, I know I’ll be. I just wish I knew now.” There was a playful pout on the Filipino boy’s lips, but he didn’t speak another word about it.

By the time they got picked up by Michael’s mom, however, he was bouncing in his seat. “Honey, what’s got you so excited? I haven’t seen you this eager since you and Jeremy went to that Weird Al concert,” she inquired, a warm smile as she pulled out of the school’s parking lot.

“Jere has a surprise for me,” was all he said, excitement practically oozing from his words as he grinned at his mom from the back seat. He was holding onto Jeremy’s hand, having become a very touchy person, something both boys were OK with. After all, they were both secure with themselves, what was wrong with a bit of physical affection from someone you cared about?

Once they got to Jeremy’s house and Michael said goodbye to his mom, they hurried inside, both boys bouncing with the anticipation of this surprise. They hurried up to Jeremy’s room, but Michael was forced to cover his eyes while the surprise was retrieved. He sat on his best friend’s bed, barely able to contain his emotions. “Al… alright, you can look.”

He uncovered and opened his eyes, blinking in awe as Jeremy held out a red hoodie with a white bear with a black and white design, mimicking mountain ranges, lining the back, before handing it over. “I’ve been out with my dad looking for something that felt nicer than your blanket. This way, you can have it with you and it’ll help you when you’re anxious. I looked up online that stuff like this can do this thing called ‘grounding’ or ‘earthing’ and it’s typically done with weighted blankets, and I know this isn’t that, b-but I hope it works just as well. If not, t-then we ca—” He was abruptly cut off with a sudden embrace from Michael, feeling his hands grabbing and curling into the back of his shirt.

“It’s fuckin’ perfect, Jere. I love it.” He muttered this into the crook of Jeremy’s neck, sounding choked up. “And don’t worry, these are good tears, tears of joy because I have the world’s-best best friend.”

 

Michael wore it every day, only taking it off whenever he was at home and his mama forced him to wash it because it was getting too dirty. They never forced him to leave it at home, however, as they saw the positive effect it had on him and his mental health.

Soon enough, his red hoodie became a staple of Michael, more than just the hoodie to help ground him, along with his headphones he got the summer before high school started. He and Jeremy got patches that Michael felt represented him, his identity, and his niche interests.

Every patch was loved, but none more than his gay pride patch Michael proudly modeled. He had come out to his Player One in his basement when they had been trying to get through the third level of the game, Apocalypse of the Damned, that only hardcore Nintendo fans knew even existed. After getting their twentieth _‘Game Over’_ of the gaming session, Michael decided he couldn’t stall telling Jeremy any longer. He paused the game once they restarted for their lucky twenty-first try on the level, gnawing on his bottom lip as he felt Jeremy’s gaze shift to him.

“Do-do you want to take a break?” asked the taller male (only as of recently, damn puberty and its growth spurts), worry evident in his lovely blue eyes. Michael had to take a moment to recompose himself from that adorably worried look. After taking a deep breath, he felt himself word vomit his confession way too fast for Jeremy to grasp anything coherent from his words. “I’m sorry, w-what did you say Micah?”

As he fiddled with the strings of his hoodie, Michael managed to compose himself well enough to muster out, “I’m gay, Jere.” He didn’t know what he was expecting, after all, Jeremy _was_ his Player Two and had always been there. He loved his moms and never thought oddly of them, so why would he be any different? Other people online would badger on anyone who wasn’t straight, and a lot of people on TV weren’t too fond of anyone LGB—

He felt hands that were always a bit colder than his own grasp onto his cheeks, gently turning him to face the owner of said hands. The cold enveloping his warm cheeks brought him back to reality just in time to look at those wonderful eyes again, practically surrounded by a mass of freckles as Jeremy smiled reassuringly at him. “I’m really glad that you to-told me, Michael.”

Jeremy proved how supportive he was as an ally (well, at least that’s what he called himself until he learned the next year that there were more terms than ‘straight,’ ‘gay,’ and ‘lesbian’) by giving Michael his gay pride patch the next time they hung out. It was sewn on almost immediately, hoodie still on until Jeremy managed to remind him to take it off so he wouldn’t continually _stab himself_ with his shoddy workmanship. Needless to say, there was a skip in the teen’s step for a while after then.

 

The skip in his step only lasted for a while, however. It halted when Jeremy started to gush about this cute girl in his ninth grade English class. Her name was Christine, Christine Canigula. He claimed she was amazing, perfect, everything he was looking for in a partner.

Partner. That hit him hard in the chest, but his hoodie softened the blow. Michael was still his best friend, his Player One, so even if he liked this girl and not Michael like how Michael liked him, he’d be there for him. Hell, he’d be the _best_ wingman, letting his hoodie lessen his emotional blows as best it could. Unfortunately, after hearing about how _amazing_ and _lovely_ and _adorable_ Christine was for over two years, he and his hoodie could only take so much.

He couldn’t let Jeremy see the cracks in his calm, only letting himself release his emotions when alone. His medicine and hoodie could only do so much when part of the reason why his hoodie helped so much was hurting him too. Thankfully, Michael kept himself from splitting and splitting himself, because he still had his Player Two. After all, nothing would tear them apart. They’d always be a team… right?

 

Why the hell did he ever encourage Jeremy to sign up for the after-school play? Oh yeah, because he was his best friend and wanted the best for him. Did he think that he’d meet up with their bully and be persuaded to pay four-hundred dollars for something called a Squip that looked and tasted like a wintergreen tic tac? That after he took it that he would leave him at the mall and ignore him when he reached out to ask him what was wrong? That he would watch him look right through him and end up causing him to have an anxiety attack in his car?

No, but that’s what happened yesterday during their junior year, and now Jeremy’s continually just looking through him, as if he doesn’t even exist or he’s invisible to _only him_. He knows he isn’t invisible to everyone because he’s still being picked on, bullied by the douche who told Jeremy about that stupid tic tac that he wasted his Bar Mitzvah money on yesterday.

After trying to reach out to him yesterday and being looked through all day, it was fair to know that Michael was bitter. He buried his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, headphones on and blaring Bob Marley with his hood up, revealing the white bear that his ‘ _Riends_ ’ backpack, Sharpie still fresh from yesterday, hid. Taking in the feeling of his hoodie, rubbing his fingers against some fabric pinched between his fingers, he tried to calm himself as he made his way through the halls of this hell to go home in his beat-up PT Cruiser. Maybe he could get a Slurpee on his way home and drown his sorrows out in sugary cherry flavored ice.

As he was trying to quell his anxious thoughts, he felt someone bump into him. He seriously was not in the mood for whatever asshole decided it would be funny to prod at him, not today. Pulling down one of the cushioned earpads to hear whoever was speaking, he finally shifted to see the person who had been looking through him all day finally looking at him in his stupid Eminem shirt (who the hell even listened to him still?) and with those stupidly wonderful eyes, wide with shock? Surprise?

“Michael!” Oh, so _now_ he was finally going to talk to him? Why the hell now? Why did he looked so surprised to see him? He moved closer, standing in front of Michael with a smile he had the pleasure of falling in love with, one he normally would be giddy over. “Oh my god, I’m so glad to see you!” God damnit.

A red hoodie covered hand rested against Michael’s hip as he looked at his Player One, lips pursed and eyebrows narrowed as he tried his best to contain his anxiety as to not let it lace his voice as he spoke. He gripped tighter onto the inside of his hoodie with the hand that didn’t pull down his ‘L’ earpad, trying to stay calm and speak without a stutter. Instead of sounding shaky, he sounded bitter and irritated (which wasn’t far from the truth, right?). “ _Really_? So, you haven’t been avoiding me all day?”

“W-what are you talking about? I haven’t seen you since—” Jeremy started, confusion written across his expression. Well, until some sort of realization dawned upon him. “Reactivate.”

Reactivate? Michael’s brows scrunched up in confusion as the hand on his hips tentatively pulled down his hood, rubbing his fingers briefly against the fabric as well to help ground him again. What was going on? Why were Jere’s eyes seemingly following nothing, looking right over his shoulder at something that wasn’t there (he knew something wasn’t there because he anxiously glanced over his shoulder to check)?

“Wait, what?” Yeah, what? His best friend was still talking to seemingly no one, who was still behind his shoulder. His face shifted uncomfortably, as if he was receiving bad news. Seriously, what the fuck was going on? He hated being left out of the loop, especially since Jeremy always kept him in his loop.

Done with whatever Jeremy was doing at the moment, Michael spoke up, “Seriously, what’s up with you? You’ve been acting… shady ever since…” And it slowly began to dawn upon Michael what was going on. “Since…” Talking to seemingly no one and changing up ever since he chugged that Mountain Dew with that stupid tic tac rip-off, acting different, trying to… be cooler…

“…It worked, didn’t it?” Meeting Jeremy’s gaze, he couldn’t help but give a shy grin, relieved that he finally understood with the nod he was given. “Hah…” Now he finally understood. “Jeremy, that’s _amazing_!” His hands rested eagerly on his Player One’s shoulder, intrigue and joy for his friend overcoming his worries and anxiety for the moment. “We gotta test it out! No, wait, we gotta celebrate!” What was the best way to celebrate, you may be wondering? “We gotta… get _stoned in my basement_!”

With joy in his eyes, Michael let go of his friend’s shoulder to grab his hand and drag him to his PT Cruiser. Jeremy, the boy who has been through so much in his life, was finally getting what he wanted! Of course they had to celebrate, especially since they thought his money went down the drain at Payless.

However, he didn’t get to grab his hand. It oh so subtly moved away at the last second as Jeremy seemingly was focused on something else—his Squip, what else could it be? He stayed still, watching those blue orbs scan, his attention focused on this conjuration of his mind. The tension started to return to Michael as his open hand slowly retracted, closer to his chest to grip ever so slightly to the calming fabric there.

Why did Jeremy look so defeated? Why did he look so heartbroken, and why did it suddenly change to determination? Why was there a sudden flash of a neon blue that overtook his lovely eyes before that sudden determination took over?

Too anxious and worried to let this continue, he tried again to reach out and grab his best friend’s hand to tug him to familiarity, away from this startling situation. He sounded out of breath when he spoke because he was, the remnants of the anxiety attack he was trying to quell rising up again, “Jeremy? A-are you coming?”

For the last time for the upcoming months, Jeremy looked firmly at him, but with those shocking neon blue eyes hazing over his own as he declared something with an attitude of disdain never heard before, something that fueled Michael’s anxiety attack into a panic attack once he curled up into the back of his PT Crusier in the shitty school’s parking lot. “Optic Nerve Blocking: On.”

Now he was looked through again, as if he was now invisible to him as he turned around to head to this blond girl— Brooke was her name, right? —and interlock arms with her, letting the school’s double doors shut between the two of them, reinforcing this divide. It made him stutter and stumble backwards. After all, you can only get shot down so many times unintentionally. After years of being shot, being purposefully hit with weak armor close to your weak spot hurts, hurts worse than you’d expect.

Why did this hoodie come with weaknesses only Jeremy could exploit, causing him to finally shatter after trying to hard to keep it all together?

Oh yeah, because Jeremy got it for him.

 

After a month of isolation, of realizing that Jeremy’s actions weren’t entirely his own, of feelings negatively building up around that stupid _fucking Squip_ , Michael felt he had enough evidence against the damn thing and confidence rebuilt to go in for a run to help his Player Two (were they still like that? Michael hadn’t changed Jeremy’s contact info since, so they had to be?... Right?). He had to help him, even if he couldn’t see it. After all, he didn’t want to lose his Player Two and be stuck in a solo game. They had promised that they’d always be a team, and he damn well wasn’t going to lose that, lose him.

There was Jake Dillinger’s Halloween party that night, and he knew all the popular kids (now including Jeremy) would be there. He would just get in, manage to get Jeremy alone, and talk to him to convince him to get that damn thing out. Well, he didn’t know exactly how to get it out, but he was working on that. Getting Jeremy on his side could help him in figuring out exactly how to get the stupid tic tac out since he’s been the one dealing with it for months.

He hesitated in changing into his ‘ _Creeps_ ’ sweatshirt without his hoodie and headphones, but he knew that he’d easily be picked out. After all, they all knew the Headphones Kid with his red hoodie. He’d just need to be more composed and be able to handle himself well. The hoodie hadn’t been too much help in the past month since part of what gave the comforting grounding feeling wasn’t around. With hesitation, he left both as he hurried out of the house, letting his moms know he was going to be out with Jeremy (not a complete lie) before driving down to Jake Dillinger’s house.

 

Things didn’t go how he hoped it would. In fact, it was worse than he could have imagined. Jeremy acknowledged him in the bathroom, only because his Squip was off. He was apparently happy to see him, even embraced him before everything came crashing down.

Jeremy thought Michael was telling him about his WOW friend’s brother because he was jealous. Why would he be jealous of Jeremy pushing him away, of the marks that littered his arms because his anxiety and depressed thoughts overpowered him lately, of the feeling of abandonment he has been trying to suppress since his Player Two seemingly kicked him out of his life? No matter how much Michael tried to reason with him, putting on a calm but stern façade, Jeremy dismissed it.

He ignored the building attack in his chest until he no longer could, when the final nail was put into the coffin.

“Get out of my way… _loser_.”

Everything was hard to focus on after the final brush from Jeremy’s tacky ‘costume’—if you could even call it that—and the slam of the door behind him. He barely heard the knocking, registering a voice that apparently needed to use the bathroom. No, he needed his peace and to be alone here, away from the teenagers and social interactions and slurred words.

Somehow, he managed out a somewhat snarky excuse of having his period, which thankfully sufficed for whomever was behind the door. He could focus on himself, on the feeling of his panic attack taking over. His fingers twitched, and he reached to stuff his hands in his po— _shit_ , that was at home. He couldn’t block out everyone outside either, he wanted to be stealthy as could be. Well, he got his wish, as no one noticed him in the bathroom, curled up against the white porcelain of Jake’s bathtub.

He tried to remember the things his therapists told him to do when having an attack: have something to focus on, even if it’s small and difficult to do so. His fingers, while shaking, brushed against grout. He focused on that, scraping it until it was gone.

_Shit._

Outside, he picked up on a girl’s drunken singing of Whitney Houston’s ‘ _I Wanna Dance with Somebody’_ after yelling at someone who tried opening the door about not coming in. He tried his best to sing along with it, to focus on that, but his voice cracked too badly and it reminded him of how he and Jeremy used to laugh at drunken girls singing shit like this.

_Fuck._

He managed to pick himself up, using the edge of the sink’s counter to support himself. Somehow, he was in the bathtub. When had he gotten in here? How long had he been in there? Time was hard to focus on right now. Did it ever make sense? He tried to ground himself with figuring his situation out, but he was too busy choking back tears to make any progress on it.

_Ugh…_

That didn’t matter, honestly. He’d wait until his eyes were dry and then he’d go. Once he calmed down enough to put his cracked mask back on, he’d get out, blame his red eyes on weed or something in his eye if anyone bothered asking (like anyone even would, but better to be safe than sorry), and go home to curl up in bed until he passed out from whatever.

Knock, knock, knock, knock.

Abruptly taken out of his panicked thoughts, Michael shot up like a rocket. Shit, maybe he really should’ve focused on time. How could he though, when he could barely keep his hands still enough to really hold onto something? He couldn’t handle any shouting to start soon, more specifically shouting at him to start.

Knock, knock, knock, knock.

“Oh, hell yeah, I-I’ll be out soon,” Michael managed to choke out, stumbling as he hastily yanked himself up. Somehow, he got himself out of the tub, only tripping and catching himself twice.

Knock, knock, _knock, knock._

If Jeremy hadn’t left him alone, he wouldn’t be in this mess.

_Knock, knock, knock, knock._

If he hadn’t been abandoned on this teenage battle zone without his armor, he wouldn’t have taken a near fatal hit like he did. Fucking idiot, everyone was already going to be drunk and high off their asses, why would a stupid garbage disguise of beers and shit help?

_Clang, clang, **clang, clang.**_

The pressure building up in Michael’s chest was so overwhelming, too overwhelming, so _overwhelming, too overwhelming, so—_

**_Bang, bang, bang, bang._ **

Somehow, he was at the sink with water running. He could barely register his hands moving, the water running against his fingers, cold like Jeremy’s skin when he brushed against him earlier on the way past him and out of his life. _Fuck_ , why did he even show up when he thought it was probably going to end poorly in the first place? Fucking _idiot_.

 ** _Splash, splash,_** _splash,_ splash.

OK, he was fine, he was OK, he was in a better place now. His face was washed off, splashed with water, it would be harder for anyone to know he was having an attack in the bathroom now. He’s in a better place now (or, at least, that’s what he keeps telling himself).

Oh, _right_ , someone was at the door.

Turning around and reaching to open the handle, he didn’t hear anyone outside anymore. There was no more knocking.

They left, they left like Jeremy had, they left like the comfort and grounding he gave him, left like the grounding feeling his hoodie gave him _because of Jeremy_.

Turning back around, Michael pulled up his long sleeves, avoiding any glances at his arms and their ugly scars as he rested them against the cold marble to help bring himself back to. Shuddering as chills went down his spine, Michael focused in on his reflection. Yes, another thing to focus on, another thing to ground him. Focus on the now, even if he didn’t want it, even if he wanted the past and what he had before it was _ruined_.

His hair was disheveled (had he been running his fingers through it without noticing?), his eyes red and puffy, his skin streaked with tears, his glasses stained with marks. Well, he couldn’t deny what he was seeing. Shoulders heaving, he felt himself almost break down at the pathetic sight of himself. Choking back those sobs, he buried his face into his hands, glasses now resting on the sink countertop as he tried to breathe _in… and out… in… and out…_

OK, try to focus again. He reminded himself that he was Michael Mell, at a party, alone in the bathroom at said party. He looks sad and pathetic, he is having a panic attack because he _stupidly_ forgot his grounding hoodie, his armor, and his headphones. He should have stayed at home, lying in bed watching stupid cable porn. No, he should’ve grabbed his razor and offed himself instead because he wishes he hadn’t _ever_ been born.

After all, Michael is a loner, a stoner, a _loser_ who rides a PT Cruiser, a _loser_ flying solo that no one else knows.

He managed to recompose himself enough after crying his eyes out for who knows how long, pulling down his sleeves as to not disgust himself at his reminders of loneliness. Wiping at his eyes once more, he looked at himself in the mirror with a fake smile (no one would be able to tell, no one knew him at all, let alone well enough to tell that it was _cheap, fake, worthless_ ). He had to practice what he would say if anyone bothered to look at him on the way out, after all.

“Awesome party, I’m so glad I came.”

Nailed it.

 

That Friday after the weekend’s party, he was sitting on his porch while smoking in a long sleeve and his boxers. His moms were gone for their anniversary weekend, so he wasn’t worried about being bothered. Unfortunately for him, he could get affectionate, emotional, and sentimental when high, which is why he had the box of mementos from his times with Jeremy.

Their leftover ticket from playing at the arcade, the rainbow bracelet ironically made by Jeremy and given as kids that he was wearing until recently, the Magic the Gathering card Jeremy gave him for the birthday no one remembered, the ticket stub to their first concert of Weird Al… All of it hurt so much, he wanted to burn all of it. Especially his hoodie, oh god the hoodie. It was too comfy around his waist though, and it meant so much to him like how _he_ still meant so much to him (even if it and even if he meant nothing to him anymore, and even if his love and friendship would be unrequited).

He was brought out of his thoughts when Mr.Heere suddenly appeared, calling for him. With wide eyes, he quickly put out his blunt before hiding it inconspicuously. “Oh, uh, Mr.Heere!” …Wait, Mr.Heere? “What are you doing here?”

The pantless man stood on his porch now, leaning against the railing. “We need to talk about Jeremy.” _Oh_. Of course.

Glancing away from the man, he gnawed against his lower lip before managing to mutter, “Oh, sorry, me and Jeremy aren’t friends anymore…” Surely, he’d understand, after all, he hadn’t been to Jeremy’s house in mon—

“Do you love him?”

Well shit, that took him by surprise. A blush spread across his cheeks at that as he wisely said, “… _What_?” He thought he hid it well because even his mothers, who could pick up _anything_ and _everything_ , didn’t know of it. They didn’t know that _Jeremy_ was the one who helped him realize his sexuality. So how the _hell_ did _Mr.Heere know_?

Mr.Heere sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, we both know he can be a little shit sometimes, but that’s no excuse to be sitting around here burning incense while he’s turning himself into a monster.”

Nope, nope, time to abort all of this shit. Michael was still too emotional right now to deal with this. He started to get up, holding the small shoebox close to him as he did so. “I’m gonna gooo…” Before he could start towards his door, Mr.Heere was in front of him, gently resting his hands on his shoulders.

Well shit. “I need you help, please. I don’t have the tools to help out my son, but I know you do. I don’t know what’s going on, but _you_ do, and _you_ need to use what you have to help him.”

Looking away almost shamefully, Michael muttered out, “But I’m not what he wants.” He felt the hands on his shoulder tighten in their grip, persuading Michael to look up at the man in front of him.

“You’re what he needs though, even if he doesn’t realize it, Michael. This may be hard, but you need to really collect yourself and go help him. You have to push through the pain of what you guys are going through and help him.” Well damn, who knew that Mr.Heere could try to give sage advice while pantless. “I need you to reach out to him, son. He… he won’t listen to me, and I don’t blame him, but someone needs to get through to him and watch his back.”

Taking a deep breath, Michael looked Mr.Heere dead in the eye. Was he seriously going to do this? Yes, but he wasn’t going to be the only one trying to help and making strides one this was all resolved (hopefully). “If I’m gonna be trying harder to be his friend, you need to try harder to be his dad, OK? There’s a Kohls down the street. I don’t care what kind—” He had his box tucked under an arm as he listed off different kinds of pants, counting them off his fingers “—Jeans, khakis, leather… You’re not leaving that store until you buy a pair.”

The two looked at each other on the porch, the smell of ‘incense’ still lingering in the air as they peered at each other with their own type of determination. Finally, a small smile emerged on Mr.Heere’s lips as he held out a hand. “You drive a hard bargain, son.”

Shaking hands firmly, the two nodded in agreement before Michael rushed into his room in the basement to get ready for battle. Donning himself with his hoodie and arming himself with Mountain Dew Red (he remembered hearing Rich yell about it at the party at the tail end of his panic attack while leaving, and research, deduction, and giving some to Rich earlier that day during his visit alone proved it to be the solution to this Squip shit) before getting in his PT Cruiser with Mr.Heere. Once he dropped him off at Kohls, he was ready for the finale of this shitty war against this piece of shit Squip to save that wonderfully idiotic boy he couldn’t help but love, even if he didn’t love Michael back.

 

Well the situation was worse than he thought. When he sat near the stage entrance at the play, he thought the play would honestly be shit and that he could sneak on during the intermission to give Jeremy the Mountain Dew Red. This was _pretty_ good for a school play… _way_ too good for a school play, especially for this shithole of a school.

The audience was too enraptured to notice him sneak off backstage, hands in his pockets as he cradled the vintage soda. He glanced around, looking for any signs of his friend (ex-friend?) until he heard him crying his name. Thankfully no one was nearby to get whiplash from how fast Michael turned and ran further backstage, finding his friend on the floor, close to what seemed to be collapsing as his body twitched. His eyes were nearly vacant, that stupid neon blue encompassing most of his eyes.

He was not going to let him go again, fuck that.

Announcing himself, as Jeremy had been calling for him, he kneeled to Jeremy’s side, helping him up. That seemed to bring the taller boy back to reality, the unnatural blue fading away for the most part. Recognition and seemingly pure joy spread across that freckled face as he called out for him. “Wait, you came to see me in the school play?”

“Even brought my own refreshment,” he said with a somewhat sincere smile as he pulled the vintage soda out from it’s hiding place, seemingly glowing from the lights backstage hitting the bottle just right.

Jeremy seemed to recognize it and it’s importance, as he stuttered out, “I-is that?...”

“Mountain Dew Red. told you I did my research.”

“That’s amazing, give it to me!” Arms reached towards the bottle, and hesitation entered Michael’s mind as he pulled away. Was he just going to drink it and continue ignoring him? No, no he didn’t believe in that. The least he could do though was apologize for being such a shit head. That wasn’t too much to ask, right?

Maybe it was, but Michael’s anxiety was running high and he wanted something right now, even if it wasn’t the _most_ appropriate time. A smile was worn on his face as he pulled the hand with the bottle back. “OK. Wait, no!”

Shock seemed to stretch across Jeremy’s face now, his relieved smile fading. “Wait, what?! But… I _need_ it!”

“And _I_ need an apology,” Michael started, “I mean, I think that’s in order.” Arms crossed over his chest, still holding the soda close and away from Jeremy. He starts walking to the other side of the taller boy, trying to feel like he had some control over this situation to make himself feel better. “You ignore me for weeks, and then you blow me off!”

Jeremy raised his hands, waving them in the air as he managed to say, “OK, alright, fine! I’m so—” Then nothing. Had Jeremy really changed from all of this? He couldn’t even say _sorry_ to him?

“Seriously? Is it _that_ hard to say sorry?”

Jeremy’s eyes glanced around for a moment, seemingly in a panic. “Yes!” Oh wow. “C’mon man, this is important!” And he wasn’t? His feelings weren’t?

“It’s important to me!” he cried, stepping forward to get in Jeremy’s face now.

The other returned the gesture, getting into Michael’s face as he cried back with, “It’s a word!”

“It’s a gesture! Gesture’s matter!”

All the sudden, a flash of that neon blue glazed over Jeremy’s eyes before he started suddenly throwing punches at him. Because of their proximity, Michael managed to get hit with the first punch in the shoulder—shit, that _hurt_! How the hell did he get so strong?!—before backing away, soda secured back into his pocket.

“Yeah, and you think you’re superior because you eat eel in your sushi and listen to music on vinyl!” Why the hell was Jeremy coming out with such deep jabs? He barely had time to think about it as he barely dodged another. “And you don’t even care about being popular!”

Michael managed to grab one of the oncoming fists, holding on tight to attempt to restrain his friend. “Of course I care, I just know it’s never gonna happen!”

“So you resent me because I tried and you didn’t?!” Another fist came his way, and Michael managed to grab that one too.

“No I don’t resent you, I’m jealous that you _tried_!” he cried out as he tried to keep Jeremy under control. What kind of superhuman strength did a tic tac give him?!

Jeremy’s eyes seemed to soften in a way as he cried out, “And I’m jealous that you _don’t_!” Wait, what?

The words caught Michael off-guard, giving Jeremy the opportunity to tackle him down to the hard floor. Both boys cried out as they tumbled back, though Michael’s groan of pain won out when Jeremy managed to get a hit in to his stomach. “Then why are you _hitting_ me?!”

Jeremy’s hands held onto himself then, his body twitching as he managed to pull himself off. “I’m not… trying to!”

“Then try harder!” Michael sat up, ready for another punch that never came. Jeremy seemingly was holding himself back as he dug his hands around himself, cocooning himself.

“It’s not me, it’s my…” Then his body flinched, as if he had been shocked. “Squip! Augh!” All the sudden, Michael was right by his side, hands hovering over his friend’s trembling body. As he did, he could see faint electrocution marks littering his body, seemingly glowing with the same neon blue hazed over Jeremy’s eyes. “It’s taking over my body. You gotta help me! I’m sorry!”

That was more than enough for Michael as he grabbed his friend, restraining him as well in case the Squip decided to try to take him out again. Surely, he and Rich had been the only ones Squipped, so the cast could help him, right?

Wrong.

Jake, Brooke, Chole, and the rest of the cast seemed to have been Squipped already, as evident by their efforts to get Michael and Jeremy separated from each other and the soda. With Jake dumping out most of the soda and the girls trying to overtake them, they knew they were on their own.

Thankfully, Apocalypse of the Damned prepared them for this. Side-by-side, the two managed to get their way past the horde of Squipped cast. Michael managed to grasp the bottle, relieved when he saw a few drops were still in the container before he heard Jenna calling to him. He turned around in time to see her and Jake hobbling to him. “Jeremy, catch!” he called out, tossing the bottle to his friend before being overcome by the students.

He hoped that for once in his life, Jeremy would have some semblance of hand-eye coordination. Thankfully, luck was on their side for once as his friend caught the bottle, something he was able to see as he was pinned down to the ground as well as the shine of tears in his friend’s eyes. “Michael, no!”

After that, his vision was completely blocked off, Jake pinning him down to the ground. He hoped that Jeremy was going to drink that soda, as he saw Jenna holding up a green vile with tic ta— _oh fuck_. He shut his mouth tight, trying to prevent himself from being Squipped as well. His mind was in such a panic that he couldn’t hear much besides the eerie synchronization of the cast murmuring out something or another before humming. His eyes were focused on the Squipped Jenna, her neon blue eyes lighting up his face as she pinched his nose, trying to force him to drink the hellish concoction.

Thankfully, the bottle dropped by the time he needed to breathe again. Gasping for air, he took in his surroundings right before he heard an ear-piercing wail. The sudden sensory overload combined with the pressure that he hadn’t realized built up in his chest, hidden before by his adrenaline pumping, allowed him to join in with the chorus of screaming students as they all collapsed, one by one.

Once he was sure everyone wasn’t acting under the Squip’s control, Michael rushed over to be by Jeremy’s side, checking him and then everyone else to make sure they were breathing before calling for an ambulance. His hands were shaking as he dialed the simple number, but he gripped onto the sleeve of his hoodie and he felt his trembles calm, even if it was only slightly.

“Hello, my name is Michael Mell, there’s been an accident at Middleborough High School.”

 

For the past night and day, Michael had been in and out of Jeremy’s room (he just so happened to be sharing with Rich, so he made sure Rich was recovering well and updating him on everything that happened during the play). Some people came in and out, and most of the cast were released within twelve hours. The only exception was Jake, who was worse for wear after walking around on his broken legs.

Michael was currently walking back in after Rich insisted he do so, claiming he needed to worry about himself now that everyone else was being taken care of. He didn’t care about that, he just wanted to be near Jeremy, but he knew he needed something in his system. Thankfully, there was a 7/11 right down the road, so he only left to get himself a sugary reward for helping to save what, the school? The world? Eh, he just took whatever excuse he could to get his cherry Slurpee, honestly.

By the time he made it back, he could hear Rich and Jeremy talking—thank god he was finally awake. He was obviously hearing the tail end of some conversation he wasn’t meant to hear, his cheeks warming up as he stood near the doorway.

“What is he, your… _boyfriend_? No judgement, _totally_ bi now!” He wasn’t surprised at the last bit, as they both talked about that during the night that sparked from a conversation of his pride patch.

‘“ _Oh, forgot to apologize for all the bullying, especially the homophobic shit. My Squip tried to suppress my bi thoughts, saying they weren’t ‘cool.’ Guess whoever programmed these things have another fucked up moral to add to their list after the electrocution, hivemind, and world domination shit, huh?”_

 _“Yeah, for sure. Glad to have some solidarity, Rich. Thanks.”_ ‘

With that, Michael decided to make an entrance again, finishing up a big gulp from his Slurpee. “I’m sure some special someone will be lucky to have you, Rich.” He felt both pairs of eyes bore into him now, and he quickly drank some more of his sugary concoction to avoid speaking up for the moment.

Thankfully, Rich decided to play off him, looking at him with wide eyes and a wide smile. “You think?” Michael just nodded then, giving him a thumbs up before shutting the curtain divider between the two beds so he could talk to Jeremy in private (well, as private as a shared room could be).

After making sure that Jeremy was OK and the two shedding tears, Michael did his best to recount the play’s event, so they were both on the same page. He tried his best to not get too worked up, as he knew Rich was more than likely eavesdropping since there wasn’t much to do in this boring bland room and that he seemed to be taking an interest in Michael, as evident by their more in-depth conversations during the past twenty-four hours.

As Michael was trailing off on how the Squip was supposedly gone for good, using little explosion sound effects that he personally supplied while making his best attempt at emphasizing said effects with his hands, he noticed that Jeremy’s focus was tapering. Worry spread across his face, hesitating before resting his hand atop of Jeremy’s hand, the one closest and without an IV. The flinch of surprise hurt, but he did his best to hide that as he gave the most reassuring smile he could muster.

“Jere? It’s OK, I know that you didn’t mean any of that shit the satanic tic tac made you do. I missed you, yeah, and that shit’ll still hurt me for a while. I know it’ll take time for us to get back to where we were, but I’m willing to wait it out and still help you while we get back to where we were.”

There was hesitation in those blue eyes, and a hint of fear? He wasn’t sure how to react, staying as he was as he felt the lankier fingers underneath his shift to grip onto his chubbier fingers in a tight but secure hold. “Wh… what if I don’t want things to go back to how they used to be?” The sudden tension that built in Michael was noticed instantly for once by the typically oblivious boy as he looked right at Michael, his freckles more notable due to a red hue spreading across his cheeks. “I-I don’t mean anything bad by that! Well, unless you don’t feel the same way, be-because I know we don’t always a-agree on everything, like how you th-think that Cherry Slurpees are superior to the cl-clearly better Blue Raspberry ones, or how—”

“For _fuck’s_ sake Jere, please get to the point!” Rich cried from across the barrier, his lisp evident (apparently his Squip had been keeping it under control, but it added to Rich’s personality, charm, who he was). A squeak of surprise escape Jeremy, not helping with the red that spread across his face.

The tension had slowly faded from Michael’s body, quelling the toxic thoughts of being abandoned again. No, he could tell Jeremy wasn’t thinking about that at all. If anything, he seemed clingier, not wanting him to go. “You can tell me Jere, no matter how long it takes. You know I’m gonna be here, waiting.”

Jeremy’s free hand reached up, wiping away at forming tears. He nodded, looking at Michael with anxiety written across his face. “I… I want us to keep being best friends, but I want to be that and _more_. Y-y’know how I’m bi?” Michael nodded, staying patiently and reassuringly silent. Using the red sleeve on his own free hand, he gently patted away any more forming tears from Jeremy’s reddening face. After all, what good is his armor if it can’t help people?

“Well, you helped me figure it out in more ways than researching it in the ninth grade and giving me pride in it. You were the reason I figured I liked more than girls. A-and the Squip thought it was stupid and tried to suppress those feelings to focus all on Christine.” D… did he just hear what Jeremy said correctly?

“I thought i-it would be awkward to ruin our friendship over you not feeling the same. Yeah, I think Ch-Christine is cute and all, so I decided to try to focus on her rather than you. I couldn’t risk losing my Player One ov-over all my feelings, but the Squip made me lose you and I can’t be away from you. I want you to know how I feel, e…even if you don’t feel the same.”

Jeremy’s gaze had shifted down to his lap, refusing to look at Michael, even as his red hoodie collected all his tears. “So, I’m _sorry_ Michael, for putting you through all of this just because I couldn’t figure out all of my feelings, for not w-wanting to burden you any more and to get someone else’s four-hundred-dollar, world-conquering o-opinion on it.”

Michael couldn’t help but smile fondly down at his friend. Could he be an idiot? Of course, but he himself could be. After all, they were all teenagers and they made stupid as shit mistakes. “Jere, it’s OK. Well, not OK that the world was _almost_ conquered and all, but that you have feelings and are human. Lucky for you—” He booped Jeremy’s nose then, smiling wider as those wonderful eyes, full of hope and possibilities “—I feel the same way. Well, not in the way of regretting chugging a supercomputer because I didn’t and having feelings for Chrstine because I’m as straight as a circle.” He could have said more, could have rambled on further, but the forming smile on Jeremy’s lips stopped him as he just settled on a small, curt smile.

That smile quickly dropped, though Jeremy kept his gaze laser focused on Michael as he muttered out, “I really don’t deserve a second chance, especially after all I did, even if it was with the Squip’s influence.”

The shorter of the pair shrugged, an amused expression practically plastered on his face. “Maybe you do, maybe you don’t, but you’re getting one either way.” He wrapped the arm that had had a now-damp sleeve and wrapped it carefully around Jeremy’s shoulders, resting his head against his shoulder like they were back in Michael’s basement, lounging about or taking a break from gaming in Jeremy’s bean bags. “And now you’re not getting rid of me, hell no. I’m going to be clingy as shit until you learn to love it.”

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” murmured out Jeremy as he placed a gentle kiss to Michael’s disheveled hair, who seemingly smiled when Michael’s tanned cheeks darkened as a result. He couldn’t help but laugh as Michael pouted up at him, though not for long as Rich cheered about being a matchmaker and not knowing it.

“Maybe I should take payment for my services.”

Nice way of ruining the mood, Rich. “Consider the emotional turmoil as us all being even.”

“Touché, Mell, touché.”

 

Everyone was still sensitive after the whole play incident (everyone was convinced that another Arsenic and Old Lace problem like the previous year except for some of the cast), but those Squipped and their unSquipped savior stuck together like glue. Well, Michael stuck to Jeremy as they reformed their friendship and their romantic relationship blossomed, and Jeremy wanted to be with his new friends and for said friends to befriend his Player One because who wouldn’t want to? They helped each other through any rough patches, although most were saved for Jeremy and Rich since they had been Squipped for the longest, and Jenna since she was under the pill’s influence for a few days.

All the Squip Squad (that’s what they decided to call themselves collectively) became thick as thieves, always making sure to have time for each other and to support one another. They always sat together at lunch for the remainder of the fall semester and all the way through the rest of junior year. Hell, they even had weekly hangouts at a variety of the group’s homes. It was all very uncomfortable for Michael at first, especially since these people were either complete strangers before or bullies of some sort, but everything seemed to fall into place. Everything seemed easy to get through while he dawned his armor, now stronger than ever after being tempered (like how you temper glass) through hell and back.

Well, he didn’t always wear his hoodie. Sometimes Jeremy was too cold, or he just wanted to smell Michael during the day. If it had been anyone else who asked to snag his hoodie for a whole day, let alone a few minutes, his anxiety would have flared to the point of an attack. Since it was his Player Two, his Boyf to his Friend, it was OK. After all, he was grounded knowing that Jeremy was wearing it, comforted by the feeling that Jeremy was practically giddy wearing his ratty hoodie around. It would smell like Jeremy after too, so that was an added plus. If his anxiety ever got bad and he needed to drown the noise out, he could put on his headphones anyway and blare some Bob Marley to calm him back down.

He didn’t really have to worry about people calling him out for marks on his arm either, something he got worried about after the whole Squip event when Jeremy first wanted to wear his hoodie. No one berated him for it but were understanding and supportive. He even got matching Pac-Man tattoos with Jeremy once they were legally old enough to get it without parental permission because hey, they were legal adults and could do what they wanted. It helped with his mental healing process, and he was so glad to have such great support from his new friends and his best friend, his _boyfriend_.

He realized that he didn’t need his _hoodie_ to ground him anymore. No, his armor hadn’t been the real reason why he was grounded, but because of _who_ gave it, _who_ thought so much about him to go out of his way to get it and make sure it felt better than his blanket at home, to get him his pride patch before knowing _he_ was more than an ally.

It was because of Jeremy, and he couldn’t ask for anything better to keep him from floating away into his anxiety and depressed thoughts. They were still there, there were still voices in his head, but they were beginning to become what everyone told him were the normal kind.

If Jeremy, his Player Two, was with him, he could make it through anything, and he was more than OK with that.

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaaand that's all folks! Thanks lots for reading, love you all. <3
> 
> Also! If you noticed any issues while reading, please let me know! I self-edited all of this so I could only catch so much. Thanks!
> 
> EDIT (1/15/2019): My good buddy Kit made AMAZING fanart of one of the moments (his favorite) from the end of the fic! Please check out his fanart, it's amazing and so is he!!! https://themusicalkit.tumblr.com/post/182305393067/my-favorite-scene-from-michaelmellancholy-s


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